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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628299">All The Birds in the Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleGrenier/pseuds/ElleGrenier'>ElleGrenier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Trans, Trans Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:21:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22628299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleGrenier/pseuds/ElleGrenier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at Scoops Ahoy is a chore-even with Steve's coworker/frustrating friend Robin. Factor in a growing discomfort with the way people see/treat him that he can't ignore anymore and flirtation he wouldn't expect a lesbian directing his way, and it becomes hard to ignore the feelings he's been pushing aside for year.</p>
<p>But even if Harrington was a girl-Robin wouldn't be into her, would she?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robin Buckley &amp; Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All The Birds in the Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1. TWO SCOOPS FULL</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Scoop one, scoop two. Don’t think about your shoulders, Steve. Sprinkle. Don’t think about how broad and how out of place they are. Chocolate sauce. And whatever you do, don’t try to figure out why they make you uncomfortable when so many guys would love to have them.</p>
<p>And serve.</p>
<p>“Thank you for coming to Scoops Ahoy, have a jolly day!”</p>
<p>It’s a stupid slogan, the kind that only barely makes sense and revolves around a pun that just doesn’t work, if he’s being harsh. And he is. When it comes to Scoops Ahoy, it’s hard to feel anything but irritated,</p>
<p>He’s not even sure what it is that annoys him so much. There’s the customers, and the uniform, and the hat that keeps messing with his hair. There’s the cold from the freezers where the ice cream is stored, the scratchy polyester of the uniform, the manager who somehow manages to be absent and overbearing at the same time—and there’s Robin, too. Not that Steve hates her. She’s fun to be around and anyone who can make the Scoops Ahoy uniform look decent is a winner in his books, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t find it fun to get under his skin in a way nobody else can manage. So it’s safe to say that however cool Robin may be, she still fits the list of the wonderful annoyances Scoops Ahoy have to offer.</p>
<p>“Alright, my break’s over.” Robin slumps next to him, draping her arm around his shoulder with a mocking look on her face. “Did I miss anything exciting, Fawcett?”</p>
<p>	The nickname sends a blush rushing across Steve’s cheeks, which in turn makes him cuss under his breath. He slipped up one time and mentioned his admiration for Farrah Fawcettt’s hair and the fact that he uses her hairspray, and that was it. Robin hasn’t let go of it, and he doubts he ever will.</p>
<p>	“Do you really have to call me that?” he groans.</p>
<p>	Robin grins. “Not at all, Farrah.”</p>
<p>	Even worse. His cheeks grow redder, and that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach grows stronger. It’s ridiculous that Robin can get to him this easily, mix him up so he has no idea how he even feels anymore. He’s embarrassed—mortified, even—but at the same time, he’s grinning, which makes even less sense. It’s not even one of the goofy grins he usually gets when messing around with his friends. Robin has this knack for pulling that smile out of him, and he has no clue how she does it, but he’s not complaining.</p>
<p>	“You like that, don’t you, Harrington?”</p>
<p>	“What?” he jokes. “You comparing me to a model? There are worse things.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>	Robin rolls her eyes and elbows him in the chest, hitting between two ribs. He winces and rubs where a bruise is bound to pop up, and for a few seconds Steve wishes he had some kind of padding to protect his chest. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t know how I put up with you.”</p>
<p>	“Because I’m pretty?” he offers.</p>
<p>	“Pretty?” scoffs Robin. “I mean, I guess you aren’t bad to look at, once you get past the hair.”</p>
<p>	The second he hears Robin repeat the word pretty, Steve finds himself wondering why, of all words he could’ve used, he settled on that one. There are so many other options out there: sexy, dashing, ruggedly handsome...the last one sends a shiver down his spine. He knows being a pretty boy isn’t supposed to be a good thing, but it seems better than the alternatives. They all seem so aggressive, so rough, and being smooth is much more fun. So, pretty it is. He can live with that.</p>
<p>	“What’s the matter with the hair?” He mocks a gasp, prompting one of Robin’s famous you’ve got to be kidding me blinks. “I take good care of my baby!”</p>
<p>	“Maybe too much so,” she muses. “I mean...you’ve got so much spray in there it looks hard. You should let it down sometime, maybe even grow it out. That,” she emphasizes, “would be pretty.”</p>
<p>“Pretty sure that’d just make me look girly, Buckley.”</p>
<p>Robin raises an eyebrow. “Would that be such a bad thing?”</p>
<p>There’s that feeling in his stomach again. It’s not bad, despite what he said earlier. It’s warm, even. Almost nice. There’s a hint of recognition to it, like Robin can see some part of him nobody else can. </p>
<p>	And that’s not a train of thought he plans on engaging, at least not at work. He knows what Robin’s hinting at, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it—maybe too much so—but this is so, so not the time or the place. Scoops Ahoy is quiet, sure, but someone would notice if Steve started having an existential crisis. And by someone, he means Robin, who sees  way too much already. Whatever she’s hinting at isn’t an option, anyway.</p>
<p>	But what if it was? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, dreamed about it even, but she—oh fuck, it feels dangerously good to refer to herself as she. She! With a simple slip, she’s fallen into the land of no return. She supposes she could go back if she wanted to, but the thought of it makes her feel so cold. There’s no harm in this, not so long as she keeps it confined to her head. Nobody can see what’s going on in there, which means nobody has to know that she’s...what, exactly? A girl? It seems impossible just looking at her, and yet…</p>
<p>	And yet impossible as it is, it feels true. Truer than anything else she knows. She still doesn’t understand what any of this means exactly, but that doesn’t change how real it is. Nor does it change how terrifying it is.</p>
<p>	“Steve?” Robin nudges her out of trance. “Are you okay? You look like you’re having an aneurism and a panic attack at the same time, and you didn’t laugh when I said our uniforms look like a navy cadet’s twisted fantasy. What’s going on?”</p>
<p>	“Nothing,” she says. Stupid as it is, she can’t stop thinking about how Robin never calls her Steve; if it’s not one of the dozens of nickanmes she has for her, it’s Harrington. Steve is...she isn’t sure who Steve is supposed to refer to right now, only that it isn’t her. Not that she knows who she is, either. Today seems to be about all the things she doesn’t know, and it turns out there are a lot of them.</p>
<p>	“Bullshit. Come on, Harrington. Spit it out.”</p>
<p>	“I can’t. I just...no, Robin. There are some things we aren’t supposed to talk about.”</p>
<p>	A frown etches itself across Robin’s face. “You can trust me, Steve. I mean it’s not like you don’t know things about me I haven’t told anyone else.”</p>
<p>	She’s got a point. If there’s one person who might be able to understand what Steve—using her name never felt this uncomfortable, did it? It’s itchy, like a pair of socks she got for Christmas that don’t fit and scratch at her whenever they can—if there’s one person who  can understand what she’s thinking, it’s Robin. Annoying as she may be at times, her coworker knows what it’s like to be different. Hell, she might know other people like her, people who can help her understand what’s going on.</p>
<p>	“After work,” Steve caves. “Somewhere private.”</p>
<p>	Without missing a beat, Robin closes the doors to the shop and pulls Steve into the freezer behind them. It’s cold, which is kind of the point, but it doesn’t do much for her mood. Any tears that might want to make their way out of her eyes would freeze and hurt like hell on the way out, and she’s never been one for the cold to begin with. Robin pulls her in, somehow warm even here, and she takes a deep breath before letting herself just be comfortable.</p>
<p>	“You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes until the mall closed, could you?”</p>
<p>	“Nah.” Robin shrugs. “Wasn’t sure you could either.”</p>
<p>	And with that come the waterworks. It’s not as painful as she expected, which isn’t saying much, but boy does she need it. Each tear feels like a door opening just a little bigger, and embarrassed as she is by her vulnerability, it helps to let it out. Robin moves closer and hugs her, patting her back in gentle circles. </p>
<p>	“It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ve got your back, pal.”</p>
<p>	“It’s just so weird,” she lets out between breaths. “You’re not going to understand.”</p>
<p>	Robin chuckles. “Weirder than decoding messages from Russian spies and fighting monsters in this very mall? Which, by the way, they rebuilt weirdly fast.”</p>
<p>	“Point taken.”</p>
<p>	Alright. She can do this. It’s not like this is new, even if she’s been trying to shut it down until now. Steve is taking on more than she can bear right now; having someone help lighten the load is a good idea. She just needs to get the words out. One breath. Two. Don’t think about your fear, Steve. A quick, quiet sob. You can do this, girl. Looking up and closing her eyes. I believe in you.</p>
<p>	“You promise you won’t think I’m weird?” </p>
<p>	The desperation is obvious in her voice, but if Robin notices she doesn’t let it on. “You already use Farrah Fawcett hairspray, princess. How much weirder can you get?”</p>
<p>	“I...um…” Deep breath. She’s got this. The words are there, sitting at the tip of her tongue, trying to find an order to come in. “I kinda think I’m maybe supposed to be a girl somehow?”</p>
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